


venting via Lance

by chillychocolate



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-25
Updated: 2019-06-25
Packaged: 2020-05-19 14:19:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 321
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19358719
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chillychocolate/pseuds/chillychocolate
Summary: I'm sure we've all written vent stories, these are mine. But, to keep it less personal and more interesting, I've substituted myself for Lance.Most of these will probably be negative, but I promise, I'm fine! I just only tend to write these when I'm feeling sad. Maybe you can relate to some of these, who knows, I just have an inexplicable motivation to publish them.





	venting via Lance

**Author's Note:**

> uh,, yeah. As I said before, I'm totally fine! not depressed, just a lil empty sometimes, but that's ok

There’s always been a gap within him. Something always underlying his emotions, lacing his happiness, engulfing his sadness. Most days it’s just a crack, a small cave, barely even noticeable but still, waiting. Waiting for something to fall into its depths and be swallowed whole.

It’s grown over the past couple of days. Set off by the barest of tremors, a comment without malice, a thoughtless truth that spilled from her lips. Allura had always been blunt, not as sensitive to human niceties as the others. He’d been fake offended, laughing her off, mockingly ignoring her in hopes of disguising how big the chasm within him had become.

It grips onto his insides, drips off his gestures, fills his eyes as he stares at a black screen, examining his reflection. It spills over as he brings his knees close in the privacy of his room. His mouth is still set expressionless as the truth trails down his cheeks. 

It’s a sinkhole, grabbing onto anything it can find and dragging his crumbling resolve into a freefall. He can’t hear it hit the bottom as it fades into the depths. Walking alone, arms wrapped around each other, he can feel himself being carved out. He feels hollow. 

This sinkhole makes room. ‘You’re ugly’ morphs into ‘you’re annoying’, ‘you’re talentless’, ‘your friends don’t love you’. More and more insecurities fill the gap, but somehow, he just feels emptier.

Like a Russian doll, but there’s no other, better him to be found amongst the rubble. It’s just what’s left of him. His mind. His mind is what he can trust. His actions are annoying, his heart is despondent, his face is ugly. His mind keeps him emotionless, empty but unfeeling, because every emotion other than joy is worthless. To him and to others. They have no idea. No idea that he makes them laugh to hide that he’s not.

He just can’t do anything right.


End file.
